Ammunition
by LostInTheDreams
Summary: There are some heartbreaks that are hard to get over, and some that you never get over. Losing a family member was a hard thing to understand as a child, where all life was a game that death didn't share a playground with. With reality now shifted, a young magician finds himself lost in the void with a choice on what weapon to wield to fight back the sadness.


**Ammunition**

…

"You took it with you when you left  
These scars are just a trace  
Now it wonders lost and wounded  
This heart that I misplaced"  
\- _Red_

…

Ever wonder what it's like to lose everything at once and yet still you find the will to dredge up the last ounces of what was once a different side of you, now faded out and only a paper doll to dance and turn about the stage of life? Some don't have to wonder. Some have seen it, been there, felt the world stop turning and never realized what they had before looking back and realizing what it was like when they were ignorant to the fact that turning was what the world did – even if no one cared to notice, not having to feel it shift, not having to sense it sway about in its rotation.

For Kaito, the world didn't break apart like a plane of glass. It didn't shatter upon impact with an immovable object and rain its painful slivers down on him.

No, it came slowly, painfully so, dragging out all the hurt it could as it swept its way across his life.

The first initial impact was when his father was simply gone. There were very few shows that Kaito was able to make, what with homework and friends and his father simply being too far away for him to attend and still make it home in time to go to bed and get ready for elementary school. That was okay with the little boy though. He had no reason to have to see his dad on the stage when he could see him in person, watch the tricks with a seat better than the front row, because he would be a part of them – feel them – live in the moment with the excitement of them as his father then turned and taught a few of them to him in return.

He didn't go to school the morning after his father had been lost to the flames of the accident. It wasn't that he couldn't, he knew none of the other students would know what had kept him up all last night. He listened to his mother arguing with the police officers at the scene he had been dragged to, sleep clothes still on and holding to him like a security blanket of childhood. The horrors lay beyond any door that they wouldn't let him touch, but his mother's shouts and crying made their way to him all the same as he leaned back and forth on bare feet, cold in the summer night.

Kaito never had to understand death. He had heard about it, of course, from Aoko, seen her tears as she cried once in front of him over a mother of hers that he had never known. He hadn't really understood then what she was feeling, just that he didn't want to see her cry. It wasn't like the world had actually ended so he made a game of it, seeing how long it took her to laugh after she became depressed. The worst was when a student in class had teased her, to bully her, about how her mom had died because she didn't want to be with her.

It hurt, Kaito cried, but more for the fact that his mother was crying then really feeling the pain of his father's loss. He was a child still, and death to him had been nothing but a bad ending in a storybook. Part of him couldn't believe this was real, thinking his father would pop out behind a corner and scare them, telling them he'd been playing some trick - some really, really, unfunny trick.

But that never happened.

His mother stopped crying after a few days, changing things around the house, bringing out pictures that they'd never had on display before, simply so that she could see his father's smiling face more often.

The house had been his father's before it was both of theirs, and Kaito had gotten his dad's old room while he had moved into the bigger one with his mother. There was a large portrait of his father in his own room, so for Kaito, the small reminders were unnecessary and did nothing but make him worry about his mother.

Crying into his pillowcase the first night - to hide it from her, to yell at his father for playing such a bad joke on them, for leaving them, for all the things he wanted to do and wanted to go see with him – took most of his tears and energy. He slept, with the dead, painted eyes of his father staring at him, as if teasing him – mocking him for being such a child.

It was so hard to smile at anything after that, so hard to care about anything when everything felt like, in the big picture, it didn't matter. His father had been a famous magician, world class, and what had it gotten him? He was gone now because of it. Magic had taken him, even as he told himself his father would never make a mistake. It didn't make sense.

Aoko and her father came over the day after, making him talk about what had happened and relive the hurt all over again. Why go about talking about someone who was gone when the wounds were so fresh still, Kaito didn't know, and didn't care. He went off the second he could, grabbing headphones off of the computer stand and listening to music to drown out all the questions of 'Are you okay?', 'What happened?', and 'Do you need anything?'

No, he wasn't okay, and he would never be okay again. The world around him had to fade, had to be examined from a back row seat this time, otherwise he was sure he'd die under the spotlight of it – just like his father had.

Doing just enough to get by when it came to socializing, just to keep his mother happy and the school from having any extra meetings with him, Kaito gained more friends than he'd ever had before. It wasn't because he was trying to, speaking simply just had more people listening to him, or wanting to make him feel better without having anything to say, or simply because he wasn't painting designs on their books or stealing their lunch snack anymore.

"Kaito?"

His father had been dead a few weeks now as Kaito turned, used to smiling though his eyes always remained partially closed. He'd dove into schoolwork and books with a passion he had never had before, and it kept him up late most nights. "What?"

Aoko shifted, her small hands going behind her back as she looked away. She had been doing that a lot too. The others in class had run out the door and he was eager to be close behind them. "You want to come over and watch TV or something? Dad's going to be home a little later, so we can watch whatever you want."

"Nah, I'm fine." He grabbed up his book bag, throwing to over his shoulders. "Maybe tomorrow. I found a video online of how to make a toy gun and I want to try it out."

"A gun? Kaito," Aoko huffed out his name like a bull. "You shouldn't play with guns."

"It's a toy gun," he defended, rolling his eyes. "I'll see you later."

"Okay, fine, be that way. Gah, boys." Aoko grabbed up her own bag, making sure to hit him in the arm with it before storming out as best she could with her tiny feet, unable to slam the classroom door. Kaito stared after her, getting mad and not knowing why. He hadn't done anything wrong.

Glue was not something his house had ever been short on, and the day was nice and warm, so he took it outside with him and grabbing a cardboard box he had found on the way home to make the gun parts out of. He'd never been a fan of guns before but it seemed like something fun to try and make, though he'd never be able to bring it to school and show it off unless he snuck it in.

Folding along a crease before cutting it, Kaito quickly got lost in the directions, watching the video off of his phone and pausing it often to follow what the person on the other side of the screen instructed.

He got so lost that he didn't know he was being watched until he heard a thud coming from near the front walk.

Frowning, Kaito looked up. There, on the other side of their little black iron fence, was a boy, rubbing his arm where it looked like he had fallen.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I am fine." The boy spoke Japanese, though it sounded kind of funny. He had to be a tourist or something. The lighter hair was a dead giveaway that he wasn't from Japan. When the boy pulled up his shirtsleeve Kaito could see blood.

"Wait a minute. We have bandages inside." Leaving the cardboard where it was, Kaito got up quickly, running into the house to get the kit. With as many times as he had fallen down, gotten into fights, or straight up had an accident with a magic trick himself, he had no issues finding it.

Running back out with the kit in hand, the other boy hadn't moved but he hadn't come inside the fence either so he had to juggle the rather large box in his hand while he opened the gate. "How bad is it?"

"I can't really see it." The boy turned his arm, a few drops of blood falling, but the wound staying neatly out of its afflicter's sight unless he wanted to put his arm down and twist it the other way, likely more painful than it would be worth.

"Sit on the steps. It doesn't look that bad." Kaito went back, opening the box and finding the wipes and the disinfectant first. The kid must have fallen on a rock or something when he went down. His mom never swept, and Kaito preferred to have rocks than not, so their house was little more hazardous than most.

While his mother would do it from time to time, the scent of the disinfectant as he placed it on the cloth reminded him far more of his father than her. She liked to go out, travel, be away for extended periods of time without him. His father never had. He'd been the one home, teaching him, scolding him, telling him how things should and shouldn't be done – and the one to treat most of his injuries.

Not tearing up, because Kaito wouldn't do that in front of a stranger and less so for some stupid reason like smelling disinfectant, he nodded his head to the other boy before wiping away the blood. There was a small wound there, not that long, but a bit deep. He felt around it a bit, making sure there was nothing under the other's skin or anything. It was on the backside of his forearm, near his elbow, so it should be easy to find any loose stones.

"Owwww," the other whined, making a fist at his side but not pulling away. "Do you have to be so rough?"

"I'm not being rough, I'm making sure it's okay. It's just a small cut, stop being a baby." It wouldn't need stitches or anything. Kaito knew, he'd had a few before.

"I'm not being a baby as I'm obviously of your same age. It hurts. I have every right to protest when you go poking at it as opposed to simply treating it."

Kaito got ticked off at that, dropping the wipe and walking away. "Fine, treat it yourself." Going back over to his work from earlier, he was fine leaving the other boy alone. The wound wasn't bad and, with him treating himself, he wouldn't have to listen to the complaining.

Ignoring the other boy as he fiddled around, Kaito started gluing the base of his makeshift weapon together. It was hard, mostly because some of the pieces looked exactly the same, at the same time it was easy. Like a puzzle. Kaito had always been good at stuff like this.

It wasn't hard to notice when the hissing and wandering around in the box ceased and the other boy was only staring at him. Kaito didn't bother looking back. Once he started something he hated to stop.

"What are you doing?"

"Just hurry up and go if you're better." Kaito had to hold two pieces together for a few minutes so he took the time to shoot a glare at the other. "I'm not your babysitter."

"I hardly need a sitter. Besides, it shouldn't be a hard question to answer." The other boy still had his right arm up, the wound pointed away from Kaito even as his head was facing him.

"You can't treat it yourself, can you?"

"I can't see it well. I can wait for it to dry and cover itself."

Sighing, Kaito grabbed the handle base and moved it over to the steps, letting them hold it up while the glue dried and going back to the boy. "Come on, let me finish, but no more complaining."

The other boy huffed at him but said nothing for a second before nodding. "I do not like pain. Please refrain from causing any that is unnecessary."

"It wasn't unnecessary. You have to clean out a wound or what's the point of even treating it?" Kaito was still ticked a bit at him, but the anger was falling away. What was the point in fighting with him when the other boy needed his help and saying nothing back would at least get him out of his hair faster. It took too much energy to argue with him anyway.

After he finished cleaning the wound, adding the ointment to prevent any infection, and wrapped it up, Kaito nodded his head towards the gate before going over and going back to work. The piece was dried now and he could continue.

Instead of leaving the boy went back to watching him but it was something easy to ignore. Going through another few steps and letting the glue dry, listening to the quiet voice on the other end of the phone, he had most of the handle done and a good part of the top of the gun – whatever it was called – before the other boy spoke up.

"Are _you_ okay? I didn't mean to say anything particularly offensive."

"I'm fine." Kaito frowned, wondering how many times he'd said those words to everyone now. They were so broad and so meaningless that he didn't even think before they were out of his mouth. He shook his head, ignoring the guy.

It was hard when the other wouldn't shut up.

"Why are you acting so weird then, and why are you making what is clearly a gun?"

"For fun," was the dull response that he got back. There was no point in answering the first part.

"You find guns fun?"

"No," Kaito snapped, some real anger coming back. "I mean, water guns, sure, but this is just going to be like, for foam balls or something. It's not a real gun or anything."

"I don't like guns," the other stated with little hesitation, never smiling down at him but always looking from above, like he was some sort of judge. "And I can honestly say, no matter your ammunition, that I don't approve of the one you're making now."

"You're not my father!" Kaito's hands tightened, just barely avoiding crushing his little project. It was just for fun. Why was this guy taking him so seriously? "Go bug someone else!"

"Where is your father then? I think you should tell him what you're making and he was disapprove as well."

Now that hurt. That hurt and Kaito didn't know what to do with the pain so he got up and wanted to hit the other boy. The blond took a step back from him, holding his injury to himself as he had before, and Kaito just couldn't do it. He could, however, stomp around him, kick the step, and storm off around the house. "Get out of here!"

If anyone asked, he didn't go around the side of his house to cry. He didn't kick up the dirt around the back, making sure he wasn't in sight of his neighbors – like Aoko – and get yelled at for it. He most certainly didn't punch the wall and hurt his fingers, painful tears of a different kind mixed in with emotional ones.

The little tantrum couldn't have gone on for that long but it felt like forever, nothing to vent his anger out on, before Kaito was sitting in the dirt, head buried in his arms, and leaning against the cooler stones that were in the shadows of all the houses around him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything wrong. I'm not even sure what I said."

While low on energy and not wanting to feel anything anymore, Kaito did glance up at the other boy. "Why won't you go away?"

"Because I don't like it when I do something wrong and don't know what it is I've done. You're so confusing."

"Maybe everything just confuses you because you're stupid." Kaito put his head back down, willing to go to sleep right there if it weren't for the fact his mother would come home and think he was missing in a few hours.

"It's possible. I'm never very good talking to people. I just wanted to tell you I didn't think it was fun to play with guns, even fake ones. I had been trying to think of something else that you might want to make instead but it was hard to see what you had to work with from the angle I had been at. I didn't mean to fall."

"Mmm." Kaito wasn't really sure what to say back to that. He simply felt nothing, not really caring if he did go back to the gun or not. "I don't care one way or another about guns. I know what a toy is and what isn't. It was just something to do because I was bored."

"Are you going to tell me what I said wrong earlier?"

Kaito buried himself further into a ball, not wanting to talk about anything.

"Okay then, how about what I had been trying to think of earlier? If you don't like guns and were just doing it because you were bored, what do you like?"

What did he like? It had been a while since anything was really enjoyable, aside from the mindless numbing of not thinking about real life when he was watching TV, playing a game, or reading a book. "I don't know."

"I'm sure there's something you like that you could make something for, to make it more enjoyable. A ball if you like sports for example."

"I'm not really into any sport in particular." Kaito made a flower appear, one that he had gotten from the garden earlier that day. He didn't know why he always liked to keep one on him - maybe fore the smell, maybe for the magic of it all that lay in such a simple flower that always managed to make everyone but him smile. Looking at the petals in front of him, he twirled it around a bit. His mother was the gardener, she was the one that had taught him how to take care of the roses, but that was never something he found 'enjoyable'. Just something to do.

"Wow. I hadn't expected that." There were soft footsteps, almost too soft to hear, the shifting sound of the others clothes telling more of the fact they were moving than their feet, before the boy was only a foot from him. "You can do magic?"

"Mostly easy stuff like this." Letting the flower drop onto the ground, Kaito stared at it with dull eyes. "And card tricks. Card tricks are easy." A deck of cards was next to appear in his hand. There were bigger tricks that his dad had been able to do, but he'd never taught them to him.

"I think card tricks are hard. A magician showed me how to do one, at a party, a few months ago, but that's all I've been able to do."

"I could show you, but that would be telling, and my dad said never to tell anyone how I do my tricks." Turning, Kaito lined up the deck and flicked one at the other boy, getting him in the forehead. "Stop trying to be a thief. Never ask a magician how they work."

"Ah, I wasn't trying to pry anything from you." The blond rubbed his head but it couldn't possibly have hurt him. If he'd gotten him in the eye, maybe, but the wind took the cards away far to easily. They were never meant to be aerodynamic.

Stooping down, the blond picked up the joker and handed it back, one of his eyebrows going up. "Well now, there's an idea."

"What?"

The boy pointed to the cards and smiled. "I've seen magicians throw cards before. Unless you hold them right, you can't really cut much, or I don't think you can. You would know more about me. These would go what, three feet?"

"Of course you have to hold them a certain way. If you don't, they won't even go straight."

"It reminds me of a poker dealing machine, but wouldn't a gun make that a lot more fun? You'd be able to shoot a card at someone. Loading a deck into the side instead of a bullet casing shouldn't be all that difficult, now, should it? And I'm not opposed to you throwing cards at people."

There was no way a spring would be able to work well with cards, like it would any other handmade object that he had been planning on putting in there. But that idea was fun… his dad had never had anything special for the cards. There were tricks he'd seen other pull off using them, but nothing like a gun. He could even use it in his predictions.

Smiling, Kaito spread his deck out in front of himself, thinking on it. "It would be really hard. I wouldn't know where to start and I've never seen how a poker machine works."

"I have. I could help, if you want. My father is in the area and I have to wait for him for a few more hours. Wandering around aimlessly doesn't sound as fun as trying to figure this out."

Kaito smirked. The boy sounded like Aoko. "Okay, but you're getting the heck out of here after. Like I said, I'm not your babysitter."

Hours. It took them both hours and Kaito had to go around, finding the right spring, the right caster mold to hold the cards in when they were loaded. It had to turn them as it threw them, so he had to remake the base and the handle bigger than any normal gun would have them.

It was dark and both boys were busy working on the touches of the cardboard card-gun when a phone rang. The blond picked it up, having some short conversation that mostly consisted of 'okay' before he hung up. "I have to go."

Kaito nodded to him. "Thanks. I mean, some of this I've never had to work with. It's going to be a while before it's done anyway."

"I'm not sure when I'll be back, but good luck with the rest of it." The boy smiled but his footsteps were rushed as he went to the gate, likely not as close to wherever his father was for the man to like. The other would have to hurry back or else get in trouble, likely.

"Don't fall again!" Kaito shouted after him, looking around the yard and realizing he was alone now and it was getting dark.

Getting up and picking up the gun, Kaito went back in the house. He'd have to change his clothes because they were a bit muddy, but his mother wouldn't care. He wanted to work on the gun, and he hadn't wanted to do something this bad since before his father died.

Maybe magic could be a little different for him. Maybe it didn't always have to remind him of his father and hurt so badly. It wasn't as if magic had really taken him away, and everyone made mistakes. Maybe his dad really had just not noticed something. It was possible, even if he liked to think it wasn't.

And a card-gun. Now that was something no other magician had and Kaito was determined to make one that wouldn't be made of cardboard one day. He loved being the first, at anything. It was magic that didn't hurt to touch.

And his father, maybe in a while it wouldn't hurt so much to think or talk about him. The world didn't always have to feel great, but thinking back, he felt more angry and alive than he had in a while when it wasn't – as opposed to when he was just there to appease a need.

Grinning to himself as he fitted the outer casing on, he thought of something. If anger was enough to help distract him from the void of nothingness he seemed to want to fall into, maybe he could go for something more gentle.

His classmates had said before he was great at making people smile.


End file.
